


Unintended

by nika_writes



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Atsumu Is Whipped, Background Black Jackals, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Minor Akaashi Keiji/Miya Osamu, Non-Explicit Sexual Content, Sakusa is the voice of reason, emotional struggle, platonic sakuatsu
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-06
Updated: 2021-03-02
Packaged: 2021-03-10 03:28:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,834
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27917509
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nika_writes/pseuds/nika_writes
Summary: Having a black out after a night of too much alcohol usually doesn’t end in questioning some existential aspects of your life, but for Atsumu, it does.After waking up with a terrible hangover in Bokuto's bed, some unexpected new feelings turn Atsumu's world upside down. And while Sakusa tries his best to keep his hopelessly overwhelmed friend on track, Bokuto struggles with accepting the idea that there could be more than friendship between himself and the blonde setter.
Relationships: Bokuto Koutarou/Miya Atsumu
Comments: 5
Kudos: 51





	1. Part 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello there! Bokuatsu is probably my favorite rare pair, so I just HAD to write something for them.
> 
> I originally wanted to post this as a one-chapter-fic, but it kept getting longer and longer, so there'll be a second and now even a third part! :D 
> 
> I also made a cover art for this fic, you can find it here on my [instagram](https://instagram.com/empty_akuma) and if you want to scream to me about this fic, bokuatsu in general, or anything else, visit me on [twitter!](https://twitter.com/empty_akuma)
> 
> The title is from Muse's song "Unintended" that kept playing in my head when I first had the idea for this fic

Atsumu’s head feels like it will split in half any moment. Why did he drink the last bottle of sake, it’s been definitely one too many last night. He keeps his eyes shut, holding onto the last strings of sleep that are tying him down to the soft cushions beneath him. The nose nuzzled deep into the pillow, Atsumu tries to slip back into slumber. Until a heavy arm is dropped across his waist.

Atsumu rips his eyes open and turns his head so fast, he almost gives himself whiplash. There is another person next to him in bed – it’s not even _his own_ bed, he realizes – and, apparently, it’s another man. The second thing Atsumu notices is the sheets rubbing against sensitive parts of his body, signaling that he’s buck naked. He carefully lifts the blanket and almost screams, when the bare cheeks he’s looking at, confirm that the other guy is _also_ completely nude.

While Atsumu is silently spiraling into a mild panic attack, the other occupant of the bed stirs lazily. Atsumu would love to escape this situation unnoticed, but he is still trapped under the arm that has the dimension of a tree trunk. He has no other choice than to face his drunken misconducts from last night. He covers his face with his hands, at least he can save himself from the embarrassment of looking the guy he most likely slept with directly in the eye.

A deep voice hums, accompanied with a weight shift of the mattress. Atsumu wills the ground to open up underneath him and swallow him whole, but unfortunately, the wood paneled floor stays stubbornly intact.

“Tsum-Tsum, you’re already up?”

It feels like ice water is running through Atsumu’s veins. He knows this voice and there is only one person on this planet who calls him by this nickname. He peeks through the gaps between his fingers and is met by the sharp golden eyes of his teammate.

“H-Heeey, Bokkun,” he says, quickly putting on a smile he hopes is looking only half as horrified as he feels. “Crazy night yesterday, am I right? Maybe got a little bit out of hand, hahaha.” He scoots towards the edge of the bed, registering in the corners of his eyes that – thank God – his clothes are lying in a pile right next to it. Atsumu grabs what he thinks are his pants and slips out from under the covers, while simultaneously pulling on the piece of cloth.

“Anyway, thanks for letting me crash here, you’re a really good friend. I think I’ll go now,” he says with a nervous laugh, grabs the rest of his clothes and sprints out of the room before Bokuto can even sit up straight.

*

Atsumu waves to stop a taxi and waits until he told the driver his address, to finally have his meltdown in the backseat. His guts are twisting and churning – an aftermath of the copious amounts of alcohol from yesterday – and he still has a serious headache. But nonetheless, he tries to force his brain to remember what happened last night.

The last thing he remembers is the captain ordering the last round, but that’s where his memories break off. Atsumu slides his hand into the pocket of his coat, luckily he didn’t lose his phone. He pulls a face when he dials the number. This won’t be a pleasant conversation, but _he_ is the only one Atsumu can ask about it.

It rings three times before Sakusa picks up. » _What do you want_ ,« he asks in his usual monotone rumble.

“Good morning, Omi-kun, it’s a pleasure to hear your lovely voice this early on another beautiful day,” Atsumu coos halfheartedly, voice still rough and hung-over. Sakusa snorts, but waits for Atsumu to go on.

Atsumu knows that his friend will probably scold him about this for weeks, but he still needs to know the details of the night. “I might have drunk a little bit too much yesterday,” Sakusa huffs, ridiculing this understatement, “And I can’t remember shit. What happened after the cap ordered the last round?”

Atsumu can almost hear Sakusa rolling his dark eyes through the phone speaker. » _I told you to stop with the booze, but you never listen to me._ « Atsumu sticks his tongue out towards his phone, before pressing it to his ear again to listen to what Sakusa is saying.

» _You and Bokuto started clinging to each other and then you began to sing some K-Pop songs at one point. It really triggered my migraine, so I left. I have no information about what happened after I went home._ «

Atsumu rubs his eyes with his free hand. “You’re a real shitty friend, you know that?”

» _I never said I’d be a particularly good friend. You have to deal with what you get,_ « Sakusa says and hangs up on him.

This is a disaster. He promised himself to never hook up with someone directly related to his work, because it’d make things complicated. So far, it worked out with the cute managers, PR agents or reporters that usually flirt heavily with him even in business environment. He never would’ve thought that he’d have to be wary of his own teammates as well.

He never slept with a man before – he still can’t fully believe he’d swing that way – so he wouldn’t have thought caution would be necessary. Thank goodness they have the whole next week off, so that he can drown himself in self pity and shame, before he has to face Bokuto at practice.

*

Locking himself in his apartment works for exactly two and a half days. But now, Atsumu’s fridge is empty and he is bored to death. And, knowing that he can kill both birds with one stone, he decides to visit his brother.

Atsumu ducks his head under the dark blue Noren with the white characters reading _Onigiri Miya_ and enters his brother’s shop. It’s late – almost closing hour – so there are only two customers sitting at the far end of the bar. Osamu is nowhere to be seen – he’s probably back in the kitchen – so Atsumu flops down on his usual chair, resting his head on the cool wood of the counter.

The clicking of ceramic next to his ear makes him open his eyes. A set of three perfectly shaped onigiri is standing right in front of him. Atsumu mumbles a _thanks_ and bites into the first one. The rich taste of fatty tuna and mayo leaves him in disbelief that he ever doubted his brother’s choice to quit volleyball for onigiri.

Osamu lets Atsumu eat in silence, he knows that he’ll talk to him after his hunger is satisfied – they’re the same when it comes to this. Talking is easier with a full stomach. By the time Atsumu picks up the last grain of rice and washes it down with a sip of his beer, they are the only people left in the shop.

“So,” Osamu begins while wiping down the counter. He looks like one of those bartenders in every western movie to which the main character is going to spill his darkest secrets. “How bad did you fuck up this time?” But in the end, he’s still his asshole brother.

Atsumu shoots him a nasty glare. “We were out with the team and I drank a little bit too much.” Osamu snorts the same way Sakusa did at that statement. Atsumu hates them both. “I can’t remember what happened that night, but I think I had sex with someone,” he confesses, his ears burning with embarrassment.

Osamu whistles. “Wow, doesn’t every girl in the area already know to keep their distance from you? Poor thing.” Atsumu opens his mouth to object that it was a girl, but quickly shuts it again. It’s better that his brother doesn’t know that he had a one night stand with a man, much worse, with a teammate.

“So what are you going to do with her now?”, Osamu asks with a shit eating grin. “Wasn’t the last time you were in something akin to a relationship, because one of your hookups turned out to be some kind of stalker and you were too afraid to dump her?”

Atsumu almost chokes on his drink when he is reminded of this horrible story. “Samu!”, he whines. “That was six years ago and she left me alone after a week, can’t you stop digging up this story every damn time I have sex?” In fact, that’s the one of the reasons he stopped telling Osamu every bed story he had over the years. The other main reason may be that there are not as many bed stories as he makes it sound like anyway.

Osamu bursts into laughter, drowning out the sound of the door opening. “Myaa-sam, sorry to disturb you so late!” Atsumu flinches so hard, he almost falls off his chair. Bokuto is shaking his rain wet coat, a guy with dark hair and glasses following him through the open door. Atsumu recognizes him as Bokuto’s high school friend. He thinks, he met him once or twice after some matches.

“Akaashi wouldn’t stop talking about your onigiri, so I had to bring him here,” Bokuto says with a wide smile, slicking back the wet hair that had fallen into his eyes.

Akaashi gives him a berating side glance before turning towards Osamu. “Please excuse us for disturbing at such a late hour. We’re happy to leave if this is causing you any trouble,” he says with a small bow of his head. This one seems to be quite the polite type, huh?

Atsumu watches his brother attentively. There is an amused smile playing around the corners of his mouth, but his eyes are gleaming with interest. That’s a really rare expression on Osamu’s face. Interesting.

“Thanks for your concern,” Osamu replies with a warm grin. “But I’m already hosting my shitty brother, so you’re very welcome to stay.” Bokuto’s gaze follows the direction Osamu is pointing in and his eyes grow wide for a split second when they discover Atsumu, who is desperately trying to hide behind his glass of beer.

“Tsum-Tsum,” he shouts, crossing the distance with a few large steps and slams his large hand between Atsumu’s shoulder blades. “I didn’t see you there!”

Atsumu would’ve liked it better if it had stayed this way. Bokuto and his friend sit down on the chairs next to Atsumu’s and start chatting with Osamu right away. Atsumu quietly sips his beer, not bothering to engage in their jovial conversation. Somehow, Bokuto is acting completely normal, like nothing extraordinary had happened between them.

Atsumu knows that he should be thankful for this, but he finds himself being annoyed about it. Wouldn’t a night with him be mind-blowing enough to make the other at least a bit flustered when meeting him again? Well, yes, none of his dates ever called him back after he slept with them, but there’s no way that the reason could be his lack of skill in bed, right?

Atsumu’s mood worsens by the second, but neither his brother nor his other two guests seem to notice him moping in the corner. He is proved wrong when something nudges his knee under the table and his asking look is met by two bright golden eyes and lightly furrowed brows.

Bokuto leans closer to him. “Are you not feeling well?”, he asks in a low voice as if he doesn’t want to interrupt Osamu’s and Akaashi’s conversation. Atsumu squirms under this gaze full of honest concern and decides to set things straight right here and now.

“Can I talk to you for a moment?”, he asks under his breath and points at the side door that leads to the back of the building. They slip out of the door without the other two taking much notice in them. The rain has stopped, but it left a chill in the air that makes Atsumu shudder in his thin shirt.

Bokuto has to duck his head a little bit with the low canopy above them, but it doesn’t seem to bother him. He waits expectantly for Atsumu to speak up, a friendly smile resting on his face. Atsumu notices that it’s been years since he’s seen Bokuto anything else than with a happy expression.

He remembers their first meeting as teammates and his ridiculous try to intimidate the older outside hitter. Even back then, his mood swings were few and he always picked himself up and as time passed, they stopped entirely. Sure, he still gets frustrated during a match sometimes, but which pro player doesn’t. Atsumu has to admit that Bokuto has matured quite a bit since he got to know him first.

Bokuto clears his throat and Atsumu jerks by the sudden sound. How long was he lost in his thoughts? “Right, uhm, what I wanted to talk about,” he says quickly, before it gets even more awkward. “I wanted to apologize for the other night, I was really drunk and normally, I don’t do this kind of thing with a teammate – or any man at all.” He talks quicker with every word that leaves his mouth, he really wants to get this over with. “It didn’t mean anything and I’d be really thankful if we could just forget about it.”

Bokuto cocks his head, lips pulling into a frown. “Forget what exactly?”, he asks.

Atsumu falters, does Bokuto really want to humiliate him by making him say it out loud? But after what happened, Atsumu doesn’t have much dignity left that’s worth saving, so he might as well spell it out for him.

“You know,” Atsumu says slowly, “the part where we had sex.” Bokuto jerks by the word, but Atsumu doesn’t notice and rumbles on. “It was a stupid mistake and it’s totally only the alcohol that’s at fault, so–“

“Wait, wait, wait,” Bokuto interrupts, both hands raised to stop Atsumu. “You think we slept with each other?”

Atsumu blinks at him and then narrows his eyes suspiciously. “Well, yeah. I don’t really remember how we got there, but why else would two grown men be naked in a bed together?”

Bokuto breaks into laughter, grabbing Atsumu’s shoulder in a vice grip and shaking him slightly. “Tsum-Tsum, we didn’t sleep with each other,” Bokuto chokes out between the fits of laughter.

“Oh,” Atsumu says and his face starts burning with embarrassment. “Wait, but why were we naked? And why was I at your apartment anyway?”

Bokuto hardly contains his chortles. “Well, You were really out of it, so I thought it’d be better not to let you drive home by yourself and since my place was closer, I decided to take you there,” he explains. “And I was naked, because you puked all over my pants in the taxi. The driver was really mad, so he kicked us out halfway. I was also quite drunk, so I just stripped, showered and went to bed after we got home.” His grin widens before he goes on. “And I think you said something about liking the freedom and a fresh breeze around your balls.”

Atsumu can barely stop himself from slamming his head against the wall. He not only puked on Bokuto, he also said some very embarrassing things and then falsely assumed that they had sex. He wants to die of shame.

A large hand pats Atsumu’s back and Bokuto is still laughing. “Don’t worry about it!”

“No!”, Atsumu protests. “I’m so sorry! I swear I’ll make it up to you sometime.” He clears his throat. “I also didn’t mean to imply that you’re, uhm… you know, like _that_. It’s also not like I’m sleeping with men – like, ever – I’ve never done that.”

The large grin on Bokuto’s face turns into a smaller smile. “You don’t need to apologize when there’s nothing to be sorry about to begin with. You know, I don’t really differentiate when it comes to love anyway, so I don’t mind the assumption.”

“Oh,” Atsumu says again. He peers over Bokuto’s shoulder where he can see Akaashi talking to his twin. “So, he is..?”

Bokuto laughs again, but shakes his head at the question. “Akaashi is my oldest friend. He used to be my junior in high school, but now he’s almost like a brother to me.” With a last pat on Atsumu’s back, Bokuto turns around and goes back inside.

Atsumu pensively stares after Bokuto while he sits down next to Akaashi. Somehow, he’s not as relieved as he should be after learning that he, in fact, _didn’t_ have sex with his teammate.

*

Atsumu tries his best to act normally around Bokuto, but despite his efforts, he’s not able to see the opposite hitter the same way that he used to. Even though he knows now that they didn’t get intimate with each other, he can’t stop thinking about what _could_ have been.

One time, he wakes up in the middle of the night, breathing heavily and a sweat damp shirt clinging to his back. He lies in the dark with a racing pulse and the afterimage of a silver haired spiker with a hungry look in his eyes burned into the back of Atsumu’s head. He slides one hand under the covers and feels the wet spot on his boxer briefs. _Shit_.

After spiraling for the following ten minutes, Atsumu sits on the edge of his bed, calmed down just enough to rationally think about the implications this dream has for his sexuality. There’s no point in denying it, he had a wet dream with Bokuto playing the leading role.

This is definitely a first for Atsumu. He was positive that he preferred girls, their soft roundness and fragile tenderness had always caught his attention. But when he bluntly thinks back to his teenage years, he also has to admit that he sometimes threw an appreciative glance at the well built bodies in the showers after practice. The picture of muscled chests and thick thighs, dripping with sweat, suddenly makes his mouth dry.

Atsumu grabs his iPad from his night stand and leans back against the headboard. Partially, he wants to confirm if he’s also attracted to men, but on the other hand he’s just horny from having a wet dream and those new pictures in his head excite him. His finger hovers over the search bar, when he realizes that he has no idea where to look for good material. The few times he ever watched porn, he always visited the most popular sites, but there were only videos with women.

He clicks on the first page that looks promising, getting rid of his stained underwear while the site is loading. What he sees, when he browses through the first few videos, is not what Atsumu had imagined. Suddenly, he feels weird lying half naked on his bed with a semi hard-on. Maybe it was just a mistake, enticed by abstinence and sexual frustration.

Atsumu is about to turn off the screen, when one of the thumbnails catches his attention. He clicks on the video and what he sees there lets the heat pool back into his stomach. The video is softer, more realistic, but mostly, he’s turned on by the physique of one of the guys. He is tall, broad back, strong thighs and soon Atsumu doesn’t need to be asked twice to wrap a hand around himself.

Halfway through it, he tosses the iPad aside, concentrating on his imagination. It’s surprisingly easy for him to project a certain outside hitter onto the video scene he just watched. He imagines the large hands, that always pat his back, sliding all over his body and his breath hitches when the picture of bright golden eyes flashes up in his mind.

When Atsumu comes down from his high, panting and sweating, he can’t hold back a laugh escaping his mouth. He knows that he probably should feel grossed out, repulsed or disgusted, but all he feels is satisfaction. Who knew men could be so hot, he thinks, while wiping away the mess with the already dirty underwear. He’s just done with roughly cleaning himself when he’s already slipping back to sleep.

*

Atsumu may have found out that he can get off on men just fine, but that doesn’t help him much with the Bokuto-situation. Was he just the trigger for Atsumu’s slumbering gayness? Or does it mean something completely different?

Whatever it may be, it has to wait. Because suddenly, Atsumu is painfully aware that he’s at all times surrounded by athletes in their best years and everyone is so goddamn _hot._

A wet towel slaps into Atsumu’s face, almost making him go blind, because he didn’t close his eyes quickly enough. “What the fuck is wrong with you,” he cries, wiping away the tears of pain.

“Stop staring like a creep,” Sakusa says, who is currently packing his gym bag after their successful practice match against EJP Raijin.

“I did not _stare_ ,” Atsumu hisses.

Sakusa raises one of his perfectly shaped brows. “Of course not, it just looked like you wanted to eat your dinner off of Meian-san’s abs if he let you.” A small shudder runs through his shoulders by the thought of it.

The blood rushes to Atsumu’s cheeks, but he bites back an explanation to why he was watching their captain applying generous amounts of body lotion all over his defined muscles. Sakusa wouldn’t swallow the lie anyway.

Instead, he shuffles as close to his prickly friend as he knows is comfortable for him. He doesn’t want another towel in his face.

“Omi-Omi,” he whispers. “Did you ever think that volleyball players are.. you know.. kinda sexy?”

The raised eyebrow disappears under black curly bangs, when a surprised look appears on Sakusa’s stoic face. He searches Atsumu’s expression for a deeper meaning behind his words, but, even though an embarrassed blush is still sitting high on his cheeks, he looks seriously back into Sakusa’s dark eyes.

Sakusa looks down to his bag, zips it close, shoulders it and pulls at the hem of Atsumu’s hoodie. “Not here. Come.”

*

Atsumu follows the tall spiker through the neon lit streets. “Where are we going?”, he asks, even though he doesn’t expect an answer. Sakusa’s taciturnity can be a pain in the ass, but he follows him nonetheless.

Finally, they arrive at a small bar in a sparsely crowded side street, where the owner greets Sakusa with a recognizing bow and immediately leads them to a small room separate from the larger taproom.

Atsumu is looking at the menu for only a few seconds, but Sakusa already orders for both of them: A variety of snacks, a large beer for Atsumu and warm sake for himself. Atsumu shuts the menu with a sharp snap, but since he wouldn’t have ordered anything differently, he doesn’t complain out loud.

They wait for their order to arrive and the waitress to leave, before Sakusa sets his focus back on Atsumu.

“What did you mean by this?”, he asks in a low voice, even though Atsumu is sure that no one could hear them if they talked normally.

The confidence he had earlier in the locker room is washed away by Sakusa’s piercing look. Maybe it would’ve been better if he didn’t say anything? Sakusa picks up an edamame pod between his chopsticks and inspects it thoroughly.

“You know that I’m a patient person. If I have to, I’ll wait all night until you talk to me.”

Atsumu swallows the mouthful of pale beer and he can feel the cold liquid running down his throat. His face is heating up, but he’s certain that it’s not entirely out of embarrassment. He’s not ashamed whether the discovery of him being attracted to men, but still, he’s nervous to say it out loud. Saying it will make it real, there’s no taking it back after, no way to pretend it’s only imagination.

Atsumu clears his throat and takes a deep breath. “I think I’m gay,” he says and looks up to search for his friend’s eyes. Sakusa’s face is calm, no harshness in his otherwise cold expression.

Sakusa chews slowly, taking his time to think about Atsumu’s revelation. The silence is driving Atsumu insane, so he chugs down half of his beer in order to calm his nerves.

“Didn’t you have girlfriends in the past? If you can call flings that lasted barely a week girlfriends, I mean,” Sakusa says with a hint of a smirk.

That bastard, even in a moment like this he has to be a grating prick. Atsumu rests his forehead on the table. “Why would I think that you’d be nicer than Samu?”, he whines. “You’re just as mean!”

“I’m not mean, I just make observations,” he states. “So?”

Atsumu groans, but he knows that he’ll feel better after discussing the whole thing with Sakusa. His most annoying side is also one of the best parts of being friends with him. He’s a sharp observer and his judgement is rational and straightforward, exactly what he needs right now.

“Yeah, I had a few hookups with women in the past,” Atsumu admits. “Even though they didn’t really go well.”

“Then what makes you think that you’re gay?”, Sakusa asks. “Because you suddenly think that men are sexy? Wouldn’t that make you bisexual if you like both?”

Atsumu stills, he didn’t think about it that way. Is it possible to like both men and women? And if he likes both, why didn’t he think about being with a women ever since the night he woke up beside Bokuto? Atsumu voices these questions, only leaving out the part with Bokuto, Sakusa doesn’t need to know about this yet.

Sakusa lays down his chopsticks and folds his hands. “Well,” he begins, “You don’t have to like men and women equally to be bisexual. Maybe you like men more than women, you only realized it much later.”

Atsumu looks at his friend in awe, he knew Sakusa’s big brain would never fail him. Between the admiration, another thought crosses his mind. “Wait a sec,” he says. “Why do you know so much about being gay – or bi – and stuff like that? Don’t tell me you’re also...”

Sakusa frowns at Atsumu and pours himself another cup of sake. “As if I’d tell you.”

“See?! You’re so mean!”, Atsumu shouts and Sakusa falls into a hearty laugh. 

*

Even while tying up the laces of his skates, Atsumu is asking himself how he got here. He really should pay more attention when he is asked if he wants to tag along. He sits up straight and glares at Sakusa beside him.

“Why are _you_ even here?”, he asks snappishly. “I thought you hate these kind of places.” He gestures at the indoor ice rink. Apparently, Inunaki’s cousin recently opened up this place and invited the whole team to test the ice for free. The Black Jackals are not the only ones on the rink, several other guests are already out doing their rounds.

Sakusa keeps his eyes on the colorful lights that are reflecting on the shiny surface. He has both hands wrapped around a thermos and is showing no intentions of getting on the ice himself. “Oh, I do,” he says, malice flashing up in his eyes. “But as if I’d miss a chance to watch you do something humiliating.”

Atsumu grits his teeth. Unfortunately, it’s not that unlikely that this is actually going to happen. The last time he went ice skating was in middle school and it didn’t exactly go very well. Osamu had always been a smidgen better with new types of sport. So Atsumu had been too eager to win against his twin and after less than thirty seconds on the ice, he slammed face first into the borders, because he didn’t know how to brake. It was sheer luck that he didn’t break his nose, but he still had to walk around with a large bruise on the face, giving his friends fuel for their jokes for weeks.

“Hey, hey, hey!”

Bokuto’s voice even drowns the music that started playing together with the disco lights. Atsumu looks over to his loudest teammate. He’s shooting over the ice as though he had never done anything else in his life. With his large frame and skillful skating, he’d even pass as an ice hockey player.

Sakusa unscrews his thermos, pours himself a cup of steaming hot tea and audibly slurps at his drink. “Are you going or what?”, he asks bored. With a side glance to Atsumu and a quirked brow he adds, “Or are you scared?”

Atsumu shoots up, wavering only slightly, before stomping towards the opening in the borders. “Me scared? As if,” he mutters to himself as he takes off the guards from the skate blades. He’s the nation’s best setter, he’s even in the top ranks worldwide and he is known for having excellent balance when he tosses to his hitters. As if he’d fail with something as mundane as ice skating!

He sets one foot on the slippery surface to get a feeling for it, before adding the second – tightly holding onto the railing. So far so good. The blurred silhouettes of Inunaki and Tomas are flashing by, shouting calls of encouragement towards their setter, which spurs Atsumu even more than Sakusa’s teasing.

He clumsily makes the first steps, rather walking than gliding, but he soon gets a sense of balance. After half a round of cautiously holding onto the railing, he is comfortable enough to let go and skate more smoothly. Inunaki and Tomas cheer for him and the libero and middle blocker join Atsumu at a moderate pace.

Another half a round later and Atsumu is confident enough to lift his eyes from the ice, looking at Sakusa with a smug grin as he passes him. He gets nothing but a sarcastic slow-clap from his friend and he sticks out his tongue in return.

Atsumu looks around for the chance of being genuinely praised by a certain someone, but when his eyes find the tufts of silver hair, his enthusiasm is quickly muted. Bokuto is currently skating casually near the rink border across from Atsumu’s position, surrounded by three young women. 

Sadly, Atsumu is blessed with excellent eye sight, so he can easily see the noticeable blushes on the girls’ faces and the more faint one on Bokuto’s brightly laughing features. He sourly averts his gaze when one of the women starts touching Bokuto’s purposely flexed bicep while the others are giggling.

Did Bokuto always flirt that offensively and he just didn’t notice it? Atsumu is reminded of their conversation behind his brother’s shop. _I don’t differentiate between lovers._ So that means Bokuto could actually be interested in one of these girls? Atsumu swallows thickly and his heart starts beating more heavily in his chest.

Suddenly, he doesn’t feel like ice skating anymore, so he lets the left over momentum carry him slowly towards the exit.

“Hey, slowpoke, you need more speed!”, shouts the mischievous libero behind him and before Atsumu has the chance to object, he is grabbed by four hands.

“No, no, no, let me go!”, he protests while the two of them are pushing him forward, picking up more speed with every slide of their skates. Soon they’re shooting over the ice a lot faster than Atsumu is comfortable with. At the point where the straight of the rink merges into a curve, the hands from his back are suddenly gone.

“Now, be free!”, Tomas calls and – from what it sounds like – Inunaki is probably toppling over from laughter. By the sudden loss of impetus, Atsumu starts staggering, waving his arms around in the desperate attempt to keep his balance.

When the border is coming closer and closer, he is reminded that there is a more pressing issue. “Wait!”, he screams. “How do I stop?!”

He still doesn’t know how to brake, but somehow, he manages to maneuver around the curve. Instead of the rink border, there are now several human obstacles in front of Atsumu, which he can impossibly dodge. He hears the warning shouts from Inunaki and Tomas and protectively pulls his hands in front of his head. The last thing Atsumu sees is a flash of golden eyes, before he slams into what feels like a human brick wall. 

It must’ve been only a few seconds, but the next thing Atsumu remembers is a dull pain in his whole body and an omnipresent warmth – which is odd, considering that he just fell down while ice skating.

“You alright, Tsum-Tsum?”

Atsumu carefully opens his eyes, blinking a few times to adjust his focus. He’s looking up into Bokuto’s face that’s only a few centimeters away from his own.

“Good thing I caught you, wouldn’t want to think about what’d happen if our setter gets injured!”, he says with an ice melting smile that makes Atsumu’s heart skip at least three beats.

Hoping that the other can’t hear the erratic thumping in his chest, Atsumu quickly untangles himself from Bokuto’s arms that are wrapped around his shoulders. He lets out an hysterical laughter. “Ha.. yeah, that would’ve been pretty bad I guess,” Atsumu says as he tries to get up on unsteady feet.

Reflexively, Bokuto holds onto his hands, worry dulling his smile, while he makes sure that Atsumu won’t slip. Immediately, Tomas, Inunaki and the three young women are beside them, the both men exuberantly apologizing for their small prank. Atsumu hectically retracts his hands from Bokuto’s, which are still firmly holding onto them, but instantly missing the warmth on his skin.

While Bokuto is reassuring the concerned bystanders that everything is fine, Atsumu mumbles an excuse and stumbles off the ice towards the exit of the ice rink.

*

Sakusa finds him sitting beside one of the vending machines. He has his legs pulled up, ice skates disregarded on the floor. He tentatively places Atsumu’s shoes next to the small puddle of ice water that had gathered around the metal blades of the skates.

Atsumu silently slips them onto his cold feet, making place on the bench for his friend to sit afterwards. Sakusa, being as wary as ever, waits for Atsumu to make the first step. It’s irritating that he always knows when to pry and when to be patient with him, but Atsumu wouldn’t dare to complain about it now.

“You’re happy now?”, Atsumu finally mutters with a deep sulk. “I successfully made a fool of myself, just like you wanted me to.”

Sakusa can’t suppress an amused huff, which earns him a sharp glare from Atsumu. “I have to admit, it was really funny,” he says smirking. “But I was also quite worried that you actually hurt yourself or that you’re seriously mad, since you stormed off like that.” He tilts his head to get a better look at Atsumu’s face, who turns away to avoid the investigating gaze. “But looking at you now, I don’t think that this is the problem here.”

Atsumu knows that he is flushed right down to his neck, not even the cold temperatures in the hallway could conceal the heat under his skin. He is also aware about what the fluttering in his chest is meaning. It would’ve been obvious weeks ago, if only back then he’d allowed himself to investigate the feeling further. It’s the first time Atsumu is experiencing something like this and it’s somehow scary – another unfamiliar emotion, he’s never been afraid of anything.

Sakusa hums gently. “Are you going to tell me, or do you want me to say it?”

Atsumu keeps his eyes trained on his shoes and fiddles with the zipper of his hoodie, but he can see Sakusa nodding in the corner of his eyes.

“Alright,” the taller man says. His tone is soft, which is a stark contrast to his usual monotone rasp. It shows that Sakusa is serious about the matter, but also cautious about Atsumu’s feelings. That blunt jerk is a much better friend than he’s giving him credit for.

“From where I stand, it looks like you have a serious crush on Bokuto.”

Atsumu leans back against the wall, allowing the truth to sink in, while letting all the air flow out of his lungs.

“Yep.”

Sakusa nods again. “What are you going to do about it?”

“…I have absolutely no idea.”


	2. Interlude

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry for the long wait! 🙇  
> This scene became longer and longer, because I enjoy writing Sakuatsu interaction too much, so I made it into an own part. Part 3 will be the final one, look forward to it!

Even if Atsumu knew _what_ to do about his crush, he has absolutely no idea _how_ to do it. He never really had to do anything to pick up girls in the past. Usually, they approached him first and his looks and a few drinks did the rest.

He once tried to make some suggestive comments in the locker room, but after he noticed that Sakusa – who was observing the whole thing – looked like he wanted to slit is wrists with his nail file if he had to listen to this any longer, Atsumu quickly aborted his sad attempts at flirting with Bokuto.

Two weeks he danced around Bokuto, but in the end he had achieved absolutely nothing. Bokuto has the tendency of being completely oblivious sometimes, so Atsumu decides to put off his pathetic attempt to seduce the outside hitter and just face the thing head on. There’s nothing that could go wrong, right?

*

It’s one of the days where Bokuto stays behind after the official training has ended, this time to practice the precision of his serves. Atsumu had to promise Sakusa a month’s worth of umeboshi from a very expensive gourmet shop, but he eventually agreed to practice late with Atsumu to give him a chance to talk privately to Bokuto.

Sakusa wipes his sweat drenched face with a fresh towel and glances over to the second field where Bokuto tosses a ball into the air before he runs up and slams it to the other side of the court. The ball hits the floor with a sharp smack, perfectly placed just inside the lines. “I still think that this is a bad idea.”

Atsumu takes a large sip of his water before setting down the bottle. “Nah, it’ll be fine.”

“You didn’t think this through at all, did you?” Sakusa steps in front of Atsumu to get his full attention. “What if he rejects you? What if he is mad about it – or worse – upset, you know what he’s like when he gets depressed. What if this ruins the atmosphere of the whole team? What if the public finds out that one of the V.League’s star players confessed his love to a teammate?”

He holds up the fingers where he counted the possible worst-case scenarios for Atsumu to see. There is it again, that seriousness in his dark eyes. Atsumu knows that Sakusa is not telling him everything that‘s on his mind. For some reason he his holding back the sharp bluntness that usually comes natural to the tall spiker. His restraint is irritating Atsumu.

Sakusa sighs. “Do you really think that a simple crush is worth the risk?”

The doubt in his friend’s voice pokes at something deep inside Atsumu and brings out one of his worst traits, that he also owes his exceptional athletic career: His stubbornness.

He clicks his tongue. “What do you know?”, Atsumu hisses and ducks under Sakusa’s hands to stand up. He opens his mouth to spit another nasty thing towards Sakusa, but he’s interrupted by Bokuto, who is calling over to say that he’s done for today.

Atsumu smiles and waves in his direction. “We’re wrapping up too,” he shouts and gets a thumbs up from Bokuto in return before he heads for the locker room.

“Listen,” he says while grabbing his water bottle and towel. “I’m just going to tell him that I like him. That’s it. If he rejects me, that’s fine too, I just need to get it out of my system.”

Sakusa raises his hands, defeated. “Fine,” he says and picks up his stuff. “I’ll shower in the guest locker room and wait for you out front.”

“Hey, won’t you wish me luck or something?”, Atsumu asks Sakusa’s back that he already turned towards him.

He looks back over his shoulder and holds eye contact for a moment. “No”, he says and leaves Atsumu standing.

Atsumu curses under his breath the whole way through the corridors. Stupid, prickly, mean Omi-Omi, who needs luck anyways? He never depended on luck in his life, so why starting now? He slows down before he reaches the door, taking a deep breath to calm his nerves.

When he enters the spacy room, he finds it empty. The faint rushing of water tells him, that Bokuto is already in the shower. Atsumu considers to just wait for him to come out, but since it would seem weird to stand here – drenched in sweat and probably not smelling his best – he decides to shower first, too.

Bokuto has the habit of taking the cubicle furthest away from the door, which is convenient for Atsumu, because he doesn’t risk running into him when he enters the showers, but he’ll notice when Bokuto is leaving. He hastily washes his body, not really paying attention to properly soap up every part – Sakusa wouldn’t approve – but he closely listens to any sign of Bokuto heading back.

Finally, the water in the other shower is shut down and the melody that Bokuto has been whistling for the past few minutes gets louder as he opens the thin sliding door to his shower cubicle. Atsumu waits for him to pass his door and then another few seconds before he turns off the shower and quickly dries himself with a towel. He doesn’t want to wait too long, or else he’ll miss his chance and Bokuto will leave, but he also doesn’t want to talk to him before he’s fully dressed. Confessing while being half naked is too awkward, even for Atsumu.

Luckily, Bokuto is in no hurry to go home. He is taking his time to get ready and happily hums the same melody as before – probably the main theme of some kid’s anime – for the whole time.

Atsumu has rushed to get his clothes on, so now he has to tie his shoes in slow motion to wait for the perfect moment to make his move. He glances up and observes the object of desire. His usually spiked up hair is falling in messy but soft wisps into his eyes after he had roughly rubbed it with a towel to stop it from dripping. There is a small smile playing around the corners of Bokuto’s mouth as if he’s laughing at a joke only he understands. The pounding in Atsumu’s chest suddenly feels like his heart has doubled in size.

When Bokuto finally grabs his jacket, Atsumu stands up and subtly steps closer towards him.

“Hey, uhm, Bokkun.” His voice is rough and pitched higher than usual, so Atsumu quickly clears his throat before Bokuto can notice his nervousness. “Do you have a moment?”

“Sure, what’s up?” Bokuto sets his bag down and smiles at Atsumu expectantly.

“Well, uh…. We’ve known each other for quite a while now, what is it, six or seven years?” Gosh, why is it so hard to look into Bokuto’s eyes while he’s talking? “I know it took some time for me to warm up with you, cause – let’s be honest – you’re really a piece of work sometimes.”

Atsumu is interrupted by Bokuto’s laughter, thankfully. It somehow came out like he wants to diss Bokuto, not confess his feelings to him. It’s thanks to Bokuto’s twisted humor, which made him immune to any sort of insult, that Atsumu is given a second chance. He can’t mess it up again.

“Anyway, it seems that I really like you now and I wanted to ask if you maybe want to go out with me some time.” There it is. It’s out. It was faster than Atsumu had expected, he didn’t even notice the words leaving his tongue, but here they are, floating through the neon lit air of their locker room. Out of reach for him now, what’s said is said.

Wouldn’t it be for the pounding in his chest, which is so loud that it’s ringing in his head, he would’ve noticed it sooner. The silence. It must have been only a few seconds since his word shaped feelings have left his lips, but now the silence following them is pressing on Atsumu’s ears.

The elated fluttering of his heart slowly makes place for fear and regret. He should’ve listened to Sakusa, this whole thing was a big mistake. He doesn’t want to leave the Black Jackals, he loves this team, but now he doesn’t have a choice, because he fucked up the atmosphere, just like Omi predicted and –

Something touches his shoulder, firm and warm, and Atsumu almost screams, because he is so startled by it. Warm chocolate meets liquid honey when he finally looks into Bokuto’s open and friendly eyes.

“Aw man, you’re making me cry! I like you too!” Bokuto is smiling so wide that he’s showing off every single one of his white teeth. “I’m really happy that we were able to become such good friends, I’d love to go out for some drinks with you and the guys!”

One shoulder squeeze and a few pats on the back later and Bokuto picks up his bag and turns towards the door. “Let’s catch up later, I’ll ask around when the others are free.” He waves goodbye with his phone in one hand and slips through the door into the dark hallway, leaving behind a speechless and confused Atsumu.

If Bokuto wouldn’t have been in such a hurry to leave the building, he would have noticed the tall man who was leaning against the wall next to the locker room door. Then he would’ve hidden the troubled look on his face better, put on a casual smile and nodded politely while passing by. But he didn’t and Sakusa saw it all.

*

Atsumu is stunned silent after Bokuto left, unable to move even one finger. What the hell happened just now? The door through which Bokuto has left less than five minutes ago swings open, revealing a serious looking Sakusa. At least Atsumu decides that he is looking serious, when in fact his expression is as unreadable as ever.

“You look like you need a drink,” his friend says slowly. He doesn’t enter the room and also shows no sign of interest in doing so.

“Did you hear everything?” Atsumu doesn’t know what he should make out of the answer, but he asks anyway.

“Let’s go to your place, the cleaner was there today, right?”, Sakusa says and disappears into the almost pitch-black hallway.

“Yep, he definitely heard everything,” Atsumu murmurs and follows him outside.

*

One of the perks of being a member of one of the two V.League’s top teams is – besides playing volleyball for a living – the relatively decent pay. That means when you have enough additional sponsors. In Atsumu’s case it’s enough for a relatively spacious top-floor apartment with a great view over one of the nicer neighborhoods in central Osaka.

Even though Atsumu doesn’t necessarily care about luxury, he likes the privacy this apartment provides. The house is only accessible for residents or announced visitors and it has an underground garage that is directly connected to the building. Many of his former high school rivals have to live in team dorms during the season, so he is grateful that the Jackals allow their players to live in their own homes.

Atsumu parks his black Mitsubishi limousine on his designated spot and turns off the engine. The clock on the center console tells him that Sakusa should be here soon. Atsumu spaced out too much while driving and missed his turns twice. He sighs and makes his way up to the 12th floor, just briefly stopping by the gatekeeper to tell him that a visitor will arrive shortly after him. 

Atsumu just took off his jacket when the doorbell rings. He opens the door and is greeted with a plastic bag that is shoved into his arms when Sakusa enters his apartment.

“Took you long enough,” Atsumu teases while Sakusa takes off his shoes and places them neatly in front of the genkan’s wooden step.

“Didn’t you arrive only five minutes before me?”, he responds flatly.

Atsumu curses, he knew that the gatekeeper is way too chatty with the visitors. He trails Sakusa into the bathroom and watches him wash his hands, like he always does when he comes to this apartment.

The bag he’s holding is heavy and he curiously peeks inside to check its contents.

“Eeeh, why did you only buy highballs?” He pulls one of the golden cans out of the bag. “Where is the beer?”

“I never said I’d buy beer,” Sakusa says and shuts off the faucet. “I’m treating you, so stop complaining.”

Atsumu puffs his cheeks. “And I thought you wanted to cheer me up.”

They’re taking a seat side by side on the gray sofa in the living room and Atsumu takes two cans out of the bag, handing one over to Sakusa. They silently open their drinks, clink the bottoms of the cans together for a halfhearted _cheers_ and take a large sip.

Atsumu doesn’t like Whisky and the slightly alkaline taste of the soda water makes it only bearable, so he quickly downs half of the can in two deep swigs. This whole day sucked. He messed up multiple times at practice because he was too focused on what he wanted to do _after_ practice, but this went wrong as well. And now even his supposed cheer-up drink tastes like alcoholic soap water. He finishes his highball and immediately takes another one from the bag.

He knows that it’s childish to sit here, sulking and brooding, but he can’t help it. Atsumu absentmindedly plays with the pull tab of his fourth can until he rips it off with a metallic sound. It’s only when someone loudly starts swearing beside him that he is dragged out of his thoughts and looks over to Sakusa. He completely forgot that he was there with him.

Sakusa clicks with his tongue and takes the can out of Atsumu’s hand. “What the fuck are you doing? You have to be more careful!”, he scolds him. Atsumu looks through his alcohol infused haze down to his hand where a large drop of blood seeps from where he cut himself with the sharp edge of the can.

“Oops,” is the only thing that comes to his mind. He didn’t even feel the cut.

Sakusa snorts disapprovingly. “I’ll get you a plaster, go rinse it,” he orders and walks towards the entrance where he left his always perfectly equipped gym bag. Back on the couch, Sakusa wraps the plaster with pointed fingers around Atsumu’s thumb. Atsumu watches the procedure with knitted brows.

“He didn’t even get what I was saying to him”, he murmurs and rubs over the edges of the plaster after Sakusa is finished. “He thought I said it because I only like him as a _friend_.”

Sakusa hums vaguely and takes a sip out of his own can. It’s still his first one. “I just wanted to say it once,” Atsumu continues. “I just wanted to say it and then move on. So why –“ He clenches his hand and the thin metal crinkles under the pressure. “Why didn’t he understand what I was saying?” Aah, he can feel it now. The cut hurts.

It’s only thanks to the alcohol that Atsumu doesn’t notice Sakusa’s hesitance. But even if he did notice, it still wouldn’t protect him from the harsh truth his friend is about to tell.

“He understood,” Sakusa says plainly. He eyes Atsumu whose drunken brain fights to translate what he said. “I think Bokuto understood exactly what you were telling him, but he decided to let you down gently.”

“Ah.” Atsumu nods. “So that‘s how it is.” He starts laughing. He laughs loud and long, and he even clutches at his sides, but the sound his throat is making doesn’t fit the stings he feels in his chest. “Well, that’s even more embarrassing,” Atsumu chuckles. He takes the last sip from his crinkled can, but the whisky somehow suddenly tastes bitter.

He throws the empty can away, missing his only house plant by a hair. Atsumu sinks deeper into the cushions and turns his attention towards Sakusa, who is still sitting quietly beside him. He may be drunk, but he recognizes pity in his friend’s face when he sees it and, right now, Sakusa is giving him his most pitiful look that Atsumu has ever seen. Seeing this expression makes something in him snap.

Atsumu is a person who deals with anger and frustration through venting. In the past, he’d let out his anger on his brother, teasing and taunting him until Osamu would give him a proper beating. After he moved out and went pro, he’d hit serve after serve until his hands went numb when the frustration got too big, or he’d run until his legs gave out.

Tonight, Sakusa has the misfortune of being the target of Atsumu’s anger. He moves closer towards him until Atsumu’s knee bumps into Sakusa’s thigh. “But who cares,” Atsumu mumbles, his voice low and rough. He props one arm on the back of the sofa and reaches out to Sakusa’s face with the other. Out of instinct, he flinches away, but Atsumu already has a firm grip on his pale chin. “I just wanted to fuck him anyway. In the end, it doesn’t matter who’s it with.”

Atsumu presses his lips forcefully on Sakusa’s mouth. He can feel the muscles in his jaw go taut under his fingers, so he presses even harder until he’s almost straddling Sakusa on the couch. For the whole time he just stares back at Atsumu with eyes as black and cold as obsidian.

Finally, Atsumu breaks away and gasps for air. “So, it doesn’t matter who it is, yeah?”, Sakusa presses through gritted teeth. With a sharp jerk of his head, he frees himself from Atsumu’s grip and wipes his lips with the back of his hand. He is furious, Atsumu can see it. And it incites him even more.

What he didn’t take into account is that Sakusa is taller than him, almost equal in strength and – most importantly – that he’s sober. Where he was towering over Sakusa just a second ago, their positions are now flipped with Atsumu on his back and pinned in place by a lanky but strong hand on his chest. “When you actually just want someone to fuck with–“ Sakusa slowly pushes Atsumu’s shirt up. “– then this shouldn’t be a problem.”

Atsumu gasps and snaps his eyes shut when Sakusa starts rubbing his nipples between the fingers. He pinches and twirls and teases them and Atsumu’s mind goes blank. He almost forgets where he is, why he is here and who he’s with. His head is spinning and his breath is hitching, but all of this comes to an abrupt stop when he opens his eyes again and looks into the bitter face of his best friend.

Sakusa slides his hand over Atsumu’s tensed abs and his fingers graze over the waistband of his sweatpants. In a sudden panic, Atsumu grabs Sakusa by the wrist and stops his fingers millimeters from diving under the elastic.

“Wait!”

Sakusa stares down on him with unforgivingly dark eyes. “Yeah, that’s what I was thinking,” he says and takes his hands off of Atsumu. Atsumu’s eyes wander over his bare torso and Sakusa who is looking at him expressionlessly, every sign of anger vanished from his face, and he feels his eyes welling up. He quickly covers his face with his forearm to hide the tears.

“I’m sorry,” he sobs, trying hard to compose himself.

Sakusa sighs deeply. He knows that he was a bit harsh on Atsumu, but otherwise he wouldn’t get through to him in this state. “Stop crying already, dumbass,” he says in a much softer tone.

“I’m not crying!”, Atsumu objects, his voice still wobbly.

A faint smile flits across Sakusa’s face and he picks up a pillow to throw it at Atsumu. The deeply offended expression he is earning is the last push to make him laugh and luckily the tense atmosphere dissolves into thin air. 

Sakusa sets a large glass of cold water in front of Atsumu before he returns to his seat on the sofa and watches him drink half of it. His eyes are red and the skin on his cheeks is blotchy, but he calmed down pretty quickly after his outburst. He sighs again.

“Seriously,” he says, trying to keep the amused tone to a minimum. “Falling in love really does the weirdest things to some people.”

Atsumu’s head snaps towards him and his eyes narrow. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Sakusa groans, he’ll definitely need a headache pill after this. “Don’t tell me that you’re still denying that you’re in love with Bokuto. There’s no way that this is just a mere crush, Atsumu.”

“Even if that was true,” Atsumu swirls the water around in his glass and frowns. “– it doesn’t matter how I feel. He doesn’t want me.”

Sakusa hums. He thinks about the face Bokuto made after he left Atsumu behind in the locker room. “I think you’ll be fine.”

Atsumu’s eyes grow wide. “Wait, do you know anything I don’t? What is it?”

Sakusa quickly raises his hands to stop Atsumu from coming any closer, he’s had enough of unwanted physical contact for tonight. “I don’t know anything, it’s just a feeling. I think that you’ll be okay either way.” His expression darkens as if he’s thinking of something horrible from the past. “You’re the most persistent person I’ve ever seen. Didn’t you virtually force me to become friends with you? I think convincing Bokuto to love you back will be a piece of cake compared to this.”

Now it’s Atsumu’s turn to throw a pillow at Sakusa. That he misses him by half a meter proves that the glass of water didn’t help much with sobering him up, though. “You’re an ass!” he barks. “And you’re mean, and I love you.” Sakusa pretends to gag, but Atsumu ignores it. “Thanks,” he adds sheepishly.

Sakusa makes an acknowledging sound in the back of his throat. He looks at the man that became his best friend, but who he thought of as obnoxious and annoying back in high school. He can’t help but to wish for the happiness of this love-struck fool and he promises that if there is anything he can do to help, he’ll do it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading and for the patience with me, it's really incredible how slow I am 😓  
> I'll try my best to work on part 3 as frequently as possible! For updates follow me on twitter, I'm posting there on my progress every now and then.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!
> 
> Please leave kudos and a comment if you liked it, I'd love to hear your thoughts <3
> 
> Part 2 might take me a while to finish, I'm a slow writer and exams are coming, but I'll do my best!
> 
> Update (Jan. 2021): I've been on an almost two month hiatus due to mental health where I didn't draw or write. I'm better now and I started writing part 2, but it will still take me some time.  
> Update (Feb. 2021): I'm splitting it into three parts in total, I'll post the next one soon!


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